VEUX

Nineteen

March 1

Saoirse had stared at herself in her bathroom mirror for too long.

Freak.

The young she wolf examined her face closely, yet from a distance. Her umber eyes picked at the shape of her face, at how her ears curved slightly behind her head with an angle. She searched for the tell tale signs that she was a werewolf. She scanned her dark skin and spiralling hair for the long strands of her pelt, opened her mouth for her sharpened canines, examined her eyes for the wildness that consumed her.

Yet Saoirse found nothing. She looked human as ever in her almond flesh, matching eyes and her jet black mass of hair. Still, she felt somewhat feral. Out of control, more like it.

Standing naked from her shower, droplets of hot water evaporated off of her body. Her towel had made its way slowly to her waist, slipping from her grip as she continued to stare at herself.

Freak. Freak. Fucking freak.

Dropping the towel completely, the fabric covered her toes and Saoirse shivered. A chill crept around her, oddly enough. Maintaining eye contact with her reflection, she shook her shoulders and let her hands fall from her face. She stared at herself as her skin rippled something ugly, waving like putty as her bones started to break and reform her body. She grabbed the edge of the sink, claws growing from her nails, fingers shrinking into thick paws. Her face held all of her horror. Watching her eyes sink back in her skull, a single blink and suddenly black leathery lids covered her umber orbs. As her skin darkened and short brown hairs began to sprout over her pelt, she focused on her growing nose. Her jaw unhinged, her nose detaching from its human place; forming the snout of a wolf. She cracked her mouth open, gazing at the reflection of shiny white razors for teeth.

With terror, Saoirse watched herself shift in her bathroom mirror out of curiosity. This was her first time shifting on her own will, without being commanded or backed into a corner. Her paws slipped from the sinks edge, her wolffish body crashing to the tile of the tiny bathroom. She attempted to turn, only for her strong tail to knock off the hand soap dish, shards of porcelain shattering in the confined space. She stopped moving, stuck in her turn around, and found she would have to shift back.

Falling to flesh, Saoirse knelt over the tile gasping for air. Naked and cold, her knees pressed into the hard tile as her hands blindly pressed onto the broken porcelain.

A knock began on her door. "Saoirse? What's that noise?" She picked up the scent through her heavy breathing to be Oracle's. He kept knocking. "Saoirse, if you don't answer I have the right to open your door."

Saoirse slowly pulled herself up from her fingers curling around the sink. She leant against the door, sighing and dusting the porcelain shards from her palms.

"Saoirse—"

"I'm not dressed," Saoirse rasped out, her throat always dry after shifting. She wondered if she hated the shift, wondered if she would ever get used to it.

"What?"

Saoirse stepped over the mess on the floor, grabbing her shorts and sweater to cover herself. "I'm not dressed!"

Oracle stopped knocking like a mad man, satisfied with Saoirse consciousness. "What broke?"

Saoirse pulled the hood of her sweater down, tugging out her shoulder length ringlets that weighed tonnes still half wet. She glanced to the broken container, curious why it mattered. "Soap."

Saoirse smiled at the sound of his head hitting the wall. "You're killing me."

Saoirse began tying her hair into a loose bun behind her ears as she whispered to herself, "Good." She opened her bathroom door, moving into her bedroom.